Back from Bacay

 

I took a blog-cation. Not a glamorous, passport-stamped, umbrella drink bacation. More like the "mentally wandering around in my life in sweatpants" variety. But I'm back! And apparently, I spent my time off reflecting - which is what happens when you're alone with goats and your thoughts for too long. 

For reasons unknown, I've been thinking about the people around me, the animals around me and the life around me....and how I'm still so stinkin surprised at my good fortune. So I'm jotting it down before I forget and start complaining about goat feed prices. 

Let's begin.

1. My Health

It might seem odd that this is #1, but my current health lets me build fences, go for runs, wrangle grandkiddos, shop and walk the entire store, and approximately one billion other things I absolutely refuse to take for granted. 

Being a nurse means I see, daily, how quickly life can pivot. One minute you're power-walking Target, the next minute you're the one with a broken hip, heart attack or amputation - or worse, you're the cautionary tale on Dateline. We always think it only happens to "other people". Spoiler alert: everyone thinks they're other people.

Which brings me to Exhibit A:  

Goat Pen North Expansion, Phase 2.0

South Side - because turns out, I am a Fencerwomen
and Farm Project Manager 

Sadly, these photos do not depict the true blood, sweat and fears that has been poured into the multi-phase Goat Pen expansion I've coined as Janky Town. 

Phase 1.0 Completed a few months back - yep, built my first fence ever

Phase 1.5 Bush clearing, bush craft (that ones for you, Lauren) and clean up

Phase 2.0 More fencing placed because I can. 

Listen. I know it looks like a hot mess. But pounding in T-posts? That does something to a women's soul. It's primal. It's empowering. It's "I will build this fortress myself and also probably need ibuprofen."

Add in the fact my very own body allows me to do this.   ** ring the gratitude bell here please. 

I enjoyed clearing out brush, bushes, and those weird thorn plants that seem to be made of heavy-duty rubber - all to clear an additional area for Coco and Pearl to enjoy bark from trees, leaves off the ground, tasty forbs and critique my landscape choices. I'm basically a goat real estate developer.

Also though, I'm doing this with selfish reasons knowing full well those goats will clear the ground of weeds, leaves and other plant material that other animals would not eat. This is in addition to the area I had fenced for them a few months back to enjoy fresh yummy green grass. It's almost like I'm creating a habitat for them that I would want if I was a goat. I mean, why not. 

Phase 2.5 was completed yesterday, which included the setup of the official bedroom suite for my girlies. 

Coco said no visitors in her bedroom

Making sure you understood her

That's better

In the words of Snoop Dog, I'd like to thank myself. Specifically, my body - which keeps showing up for the assignments I give. That is not something I take lightly. 

Because I am able-bodied, my two sweet goats are enjoying and exploring new taste and space. And yes, I'm fully aware that agricultural experts would say they don't need this much space. But those experts have not met Coco and Pearl. They deserve all the tree branches to nibble on, all the limbs and tree trunks to taste, and to crunch leaves. Don't you worry, I goat this. 

Please hold while I stretch. Phase 3.0 of expansion coming soon.

Me: Contemplating ideas

2. Connection 

This makes me smile: Friends and family.

My favorite super hero

My favorite donkey groomer

The bestest boy

Olive and Brooks are pure magic. Lauren and her husband, Ryan are almost as fun as their kids. Almost. Let's be honest, parents are professional fun-suckers. Look it up. It's in the job description.

I am deeply grateful for the secure, close relationships in my life - my daughter, my sister, their families, my gracious, beautiful friends, and my parents, who I appreciate more with every passing year. Aging has given me the gift of understanding them in ways I couldn't before.

The real miracle? We don't just love each other because we're related. We actually like each other. That feels rare. And sacred.

Even my doggos remind me what community looks like.
They squabble. They side-eye. But at the end of the day?
Furever family.

So much of who I am is due to staying grounded with my amazing family and friends. They are key in my life - as I'm sure yours are as well. The connections we have are so important. I recently had a sweet friend over to the farm and our conversation(s) reminded me just how much connection strengthens us with one another. Esp when we allow ourselves to lean into hard topics, be vulnerable with one another and allow others to see us as we truly are - and not a narrative we create. No pretending, no superficial being - instead, taking our masks off to reveal our true selves to those who love and support us the most. To see and hear others - and be seen and heard. That's where the magic lives. Whether it's at work, at home, my C3-ers, or with family - connection fills my soul cup up. To the brim.

3. Feathers and Fur

Oh, my heart. 

Never a dull moment.

It's the one blue eye that makes my heart sing

I did recently take my 4 rottie foster pups back to HSNT so they could be 'altered' (neutered and spayed) so that they would be eligible for adoption. It's hard - every time - to let them go. Some more than others, but overall, it's either tears for me - or glassy eyes. I was to receive my next foster this past weekend, Colton, a 3 year old, 70 lb black lab who is heart worm positive. I was to take him and care for him during his heart worm treatment, but the day prior to getting him, I received an email. Turns out Colton got into an "altercation" with another dog during play group time and HSNT reached out to me to let me know he may be too reactive for a placement with me due to my dogs. 

Translation: Not a fit for your zoo. Fair enough.

As I've worked on personal growth and healing these last couple of years, I've noticed that this also pours into being a more-informed foster pawent. These animals may come to me with past trauma, past homelessness, or an untrusting nature due to their own backgrounds and experiences. And to be blessed with a foster animal(s) that may cultivate mutual growth opportunity, has provided me the ability to self-reflect on how best to care for them. What do they need in this moment? Safety? Food and shelter? Are they open to love and touch? Are their walls up - and how high? And then my own self-reflection brings a lump to my throat and eyes that well up. Is my heart open? And the realization that this foster experience is helping my own heart learn to open and trust again can feel overwhelming. And in these moments, there is a mutual feeling of  'I got you". We do, we got each other. 

And since I'm on some kind of self-reflection train, I tilt my head a little, and realize just how much I've gotten in a groove with all my animals. 

The barn runs like a well-rehearsed musical.  Everyone knows when it's time to eat, where to go, where not to go. Everyone puts themselves to bed in the barn and they all have shelter from the outside elements. We all work together to try and stay in sync, with minimal diversion from the routine, i.e food supply. Otherwise, the donkeys hee-haw like we're under attack and the goats file a formal complaint.  

Chicken bedroom

Places everyone

Attitude when
routine is interrupted

Freedom in the back pasture is 
always welcome

Cat Land and feed time
l to r, June Bug, Cricket and Kitty

The barn cats handle mice patrol and snake surveillance. Hugs and kisses are always free. They have a place set up just for them, with heat lamps and bed warmers when need be. 

Paul is my rock at the barn. He loves me in a way
no other fowl has ever loved me - enthusiastically and 
slightly judgmentally. Always happy 
to see me and not because I'm the Treat Lady.

15 next month! Maybe, you look fabulous! 

Lil Pixie Pie is fully recovered and 
although has no eyes, she sees me
better than most humans.

Me:  IYKYK

Every morning, my inner child wakes up thrilled. I get to go greet my flock, my herd, my loves. Hug them. Feed them. Care for them. 

It doesn't get better than this: Health, human connection and a barn full of personalities. 

Yes, I am that lady. 

And this train? It doesn't run forever. 

But I will ride it to the end of the tracks - hands up, wind in my face, grateful for every single mile. 

With a full heart, 

Cyndi

My life?

Came out of the back door to find a possum all cozied up on a dog bed. Probably preparing for the rain to come, and picked out a fav spot ahead of time. Smart. 

So the possum rodeo began with me and the doggos. I won. 

Susie Q here will not be home for dinner 
with the fam tonight

It's now rehomed to a place off the side of the road on my way to work. 

Yes, I was late to work. 

Yes, possum can be opossum, too. Either way, they are stinky creatures.

Bacation

 

Hello friends, long time no write! 

While Olive has been on bacation with her family, apparently I have too - from my blog. I’ll give you the scoopie poop soon! 

See you back here later this week ❤️

Cyndi

Survivorship

As I was enjoying my most recent copy of Brighter (a magazine for women affected by cancer) I stumbled across an article by Lauren Candies Tarpley, a breast cancer survivor. Her piece, The Mental Game of Survivorship celebrates her hard-fought road to remission. She is now 5 years out from her diagnosis-day and reflects on what life feels like to go from Lauren, to Cancer Lauren, and then - slowly - trying to find her way back to just.....Lauren.

And there it was. Me. Right there on the page. I, too, was once Cyndi. Then I became Cancer Cyndi. The difference is - unlike Lauren - my cancer won't ever fully let me unbecome Cancer Cyndi. So instead of focusing on survivorship as a finish line, I've had to reshape that idea into something longer, messier, and more real: surviving while living with cancer.

This is a story of how I went from being me....

to polycythemia vera....

and now also, myelofibrosis (MF -1)

Turns out, just like ultrarunning, cancer is not primarily a physical game. Not surprisingly, it's a mental one too.

I've known this about ultra running for a long time. Your mind will absolutely lie to you. It will say, "You're done. You can't go another step." And your job is to say, "Cute option" - and keep going until you fall down, throw up or get heat stroke. Sounds fair, right? The body gets the final say only when you stop listening to the drama coming from your brain.

Then cancer entered the chat. 

Suddenly the question became: who's in charge now? 

My body or my mind?

Cyndi....or Cancer Cyndi. 

The lines blur real fast, my friends. 

Before all this, Cyndi used to think she'll live forever - like most human beings think. We causally ignore the looming reality of death because honestly, it really improves the vibe. It makes life feel infinite, and that's a wonderful way to live - even though the only guaranteed thing about being born is that we will, in fact, die.

And then an oncologist ruins your day. 

I remember my diagnosis-day as it's forever etched in my memory, filed under "Shocking News". So here's my unsolicited advice to anyone newly diagnosed.

Sit with it for about 30 days. Process it. Stay as calm as possible, because clarity does not visit chaos. Share your story only with people who can hold it gently - who will protect it, not poke at it. When you're ready, tell the ones who've earned the right to know. Not everyone gets access to your most sacred, fragile truth. 

I learned the hard way that when we hand our tender stories to people who do not know how to hold them, they drop them. Or stare awkwardly. Or are not our people for our story. Not everyone is. 

Anyway. Cyndi transitioned to Cancer Cyndi - and that in itself brings difficult and beautiful life lessons with it. 

Brutiful (Brutal and Beautiful) life lessons

From the beginning, I knew 2 things:

1. Cancer would not define me.

2. Pity would not be invited into my story.

And yet, pity shows up anyway. You can see it bloom in people's eyes the moment you tell them you have an incurable cancer. I get it. It's instinctual. You've just become a walking reminding of everyone's worse fear. Suddenly, you've been relocated - by others - into a strange corner of the universe : the place where people actually die. 

I used to say things like, yeah but it's treatable for a period of time or I'm told I have some time. But now, I realize I don't know anything more than anybody else does about the ultimate prognosis. And my oncologists are noncommittal at the most. Nobody truly knows. 

That's how you go from Cyndi to Cancer Cyndi - when you tell others and let the cat out of the bag. It's part of the gig. But here's the good news. When you tell the right people - the ones who love you, hug you, check on you, and laugh with you - you're still just Cyndi. I'm Cancer Cyndi when I speak of my labs, treatment and/or updates to them. Otherwise. Just Cyndi. Always.

Cancer has taught me that people have an extraordinary capacity for grace. We don't always know what to say. I don't always know what to say. We don't always get it right. But most people are doing the best they can with the tools they have. And this - this understanding - might be my greatest takeaway. 

We are all carrying something.  

If I can sit with someone in their pain without hijacking their story....if I can shine a little light when theirs is dim....that's when I quietly thank cancer for the lesson. Cancer Cyndi shows up in those moments - not to lead, but sit beside. Sometimes cancer brings gifts wrapped in terrible packaging. 

Living with blood cancer means redefining "normal". For me, it's been baby steps. What is my 'now' normal? Yes, the treatment is not kind to a body. Accepting that my fingernails may not survive. Managing the urge to hide my hands. Fighting imposter syndrome. It's a mental game of reminding myself that this journey is not linear. It's messy, bone-aching - and sometimes I don't even recognize myself in it. And still - my mind protects me in ways I can't see. When things don't make sense, it's my mental game that carries me through. The mental muscle I work on every single day. That's when I stay rooted in Cyndi....and let Cancer Cyndi ride in the backseat. She's allowed to come along - she just doesn't drive. 

Time has a way of softening sharp edges. I don't let the hard days win - though some days they definitely try. And I'll say this: I've lived a beautiful life. A full one. And however many days or years I have left, I'll take them with grace - and just enough chaos to keep things interesting. 

I want to dance in the barn. Channel bad bitch energy. Chase my feral little dogs. And buy more chickens. And guess what? I can. 

I may never shed the label of Cancer Cyndi - but I'm okay being both. She reminds me that life isn't infinite....and that I should absolutely buy those chickens. 

And keep my mental edge sharp.

Side Note: Cancer Disneyland 🎢 

Cancer Cyndi heads back to MD Anderson in March. Texas Oncology has been dropping phrases like "your numbers look good" and "your treatment is keeping you stable". Who knows....I may stay in Myelofibrosis-1/MF-1 (bone marrow failure) for a undetermined period of time (MF-2 is stem cell transplant go-time). And right now? This is my sweet spot. I'm in it. I know I'm in it. And it feels really, really good. 

Pixie Pie 🐾

Someone else is living their sweet-spot era - Pixie.

Snuggle bugs
And like me, her wounds are still healing 

While Pix had her left eye removed recently (her right eye exited the chat earlier) she and Cricket stayed at the main house tucked away safe and sound so her stitches could heal properly without a WWE-smackdown dog style. And now BOOM - they are back home in my little cabin and I'm beyond happy! I missed them so much, and so did Theo (well, Olive calls him Peo but that's a different story). 

Pixie is no longer in a permanent wink 😉 Granted, she could not see out of that left eye anyway, but once it started going sideways, it was time. She's now rocking a permanent eye close look 😌  

Peo Theo and Pixie have developed a special relationship which involves self care. Isn't it sweet?

Well, until it gets rough - and it does. Their love is but a prickly pear......sweet - and thorny tough. 

But really, I think she feels better with her eyes removed. Less pain, less issues with eyes she can't protect. Plus, she's come out of her shell and runs around here (and into things) like she has not a care in the world. Her eyes were so terrible - and I'm glad she's rid of them. My lil Pixie Pie sleeps with us.....right next to Theo, of course. 

Blue, and also Blue, and Blue, and Blue

I've taken in my next foster crew: four Rottie-mix puppies 

Me: But can I do this

Yes, 4 rottweiler-mix puppies who were recently weaned from their mama. My assignment? Keep them safe, happy, alive, and fed while they grow of age to be spayed/neutered so that they then may be adopted. Foster folks such as myself give these animals a chance to get out of the shelter (while they need more time to age into 'altering' age) and receive attention and socialization that will hopefully benefit them when it comes time to putting their best paw forward for an adoption. 

Fur-nado Factor over here

One of them were named Blue, as he has one blue eye and one brown eye. Turns out, 2 of the puppies do! One has their blue eye in the right eye, and the other in their left eye. 

Blue

And Blue

When Brooks was here, he decided to name them all blue - and I get that. They are like little ants running around here and it's hard to tell who's who. So now.....they are all Blue. Honestly? Fair. 

Residence in the shed 

Their own little AirBnB with a tiny yard, a doggie door,
and two heaters and heat lamps for comfort

I've had them for a couple of weeks (2?  3?) Time has lost all meaning. All I know is it's time for them to return on Tuesday, and I don't even know if I can get out of my property with all this snow and ice. So we'll see if they go back or not? They are all scheduled for surgery that day 🙀 Weather-permitting.

Me: Driving them to Fort Worth
in a tractor if I have to

These pups are officially twice as big as they started and ready to go find their furever families. But can I get them there? First up, corralling them be like herding cats. And add in this weather......pray for me.

Yep, Me

So this weather....

Why? Just....why?

My chickens hate it. My donkeys are unimpressed. The goats are surviving on grit and side-eye. 

Everyone has heated water, shelter and plenty of food - but unless you're in a heated barn, this is just rude. We'll get through it. All of us. Humans and animals alike. 

But also - can it please stop now?

I'm done talking about it. Someone make it go away. 

Penny and Dutch are the only fans of this nonsense

The sun will come out, tomorrow....

Cyndi

These bada$$ security doggos turn 5 this coming Sept.
They are the literal BEST. 

How did life get this good

 

This morning, I took a slow, chilly walk around the property - the kind where your jacket is zipped to your chin, hood up, hands buried in pockets like your smuggling snacks. The animals were moving about peacefully, completely at ease - as if they'd all collectively agreed: Yes. This is the good life.   

I was having a moment of being in awe of my surroundings. It was quiet in that special way where you can still hear everything. And the realization that I have everything I could ever need or want, right here, was overwhelming. In this very moment, I feel a sense of fulfillment that I've never felt before. 

My heart felt calm. My mind felt clear. And somewhere between the mist in the pasture and the dew soaking in my boots, it hit me - I don't need a single thing more than what's right here. 

In this season of my life, every cup is full.

Soul Cup: overflowing

Love Cup: sloshing

Support Cup: refilled without asking

Emotional Cup: shockingly stable

All. The. Cups. Full.

How did life get this good? Because I truly could never have imagined a life that looks like this. I feel worthy of it, as I have prayed for this beautiful gift of worthiness, that has been absent in my life for far too long. I stopped walking, stood there in the pasture like a statue in a painting, and prayed in gratitude - for worthiness, because I finally feel it. For safety, because I feel that too. And for the reminder that even when I can't see what's ahead, God already has the blueprint drawn up and ready.

And that is where I'm most grateful. I've been carried here, shown the way with opens doors and trusted myself to walk through them. Look at me trusting myself - and my decisions, like a big girl does. Look how far you've come and how much you've grown. Self-trust has been a healing journey for me and an area of focus I've needed to come face to face with for many years. I no longer abandon or betray myself, but instead trust myself to be there for me. This is where I'm most proud of my healing work. Self-trust and self-love have become my best friends these last couple of years. In the dark of night. In the light of day. They are there for me.

And here we are - all my farm animals, dogs and cats here with me, living in this most gorgeous place that we've been granted. It's my wildest dream come true. 

I then take that next sacred pause - the kind you file away as a Core Memory - and froze this moment in my brain like a framed portrait, then slowly and with intention, continue on to finish my walk with dewy boots and a lump in my throat. Total disbelief that this is actually my life. Yet here I am. And knowing my family and friends are there, woven into it all - just makes it sweeter. How did life get this good. I know the answer actually, as I know who the author of my story is. And it's definitely not me.

#nanalife

Now, onto the slightly less poetic but equally important moments:

This was all a little much

Olive recently found herself in a very large, very noisy, very splashy bath tub better know as the Allen Natatorium. She was deeply suspicious. Brooks on the other hand, was thrilled. We all know he is a thrill-seeker at heart. We survived. No injuries. No ER visits. It was a win for us all. And no, Olive did not want her eyes to get wet. 

Back on the farm, Brooks drove his own tractor so long, that it ran outta juice and needed to be towed back for further charging. 

Olive prefers riding with Sugar, princess-style

Of course we were out in the far back pasture at the time, therefore the process to get it back to the house felt like an episode of Blippi: Boys With Tractors. And of course needed to be done with little to no sun light for best little-boy-practice fun. The towing? His favorite part. 

The towing of his tractor was likely the most fun

He loves everything about being out here....

FFA ‘show' animal already picked out

#farmboy

Olive on the other hand.....

Babies over barn

Play-dough over Pasture

Lauren has quite the extremes with these two
and somehow she still looks 12 years old

Please don't get me wrong, Olive loves it out here in different ways....

“Sorry, baby” when she hits a big bump 😂

Definitely will hold a chicken - and kiss it 💋

Also, must kiss barn cat, Kitty 😽

So as Olive and Brooks enjoy life out here, I don't think they truly realize that they may very well be living in it sooner rather than later. As I've settled into my new little cabin house - and the Main House awaits them, life may look a little different for them eventually. Maybe in May or June? And #nanalife is about to level up in a big way. Let's do it. Time is ticking.

New findings at the farm

As I was haltering my horses the other day in preparation for my farrier, Dustin to come and trim their feet, I had a idea pop in my head. 

Hope has always had the iconic Chaka Khan hair which I love, but seems wildly impractical.

Before

After

omgoodness, so much easier now!

Granted, her 'before' pic was from a few years back, but it really represents her wild mane so well. And now, she's trimmed up tight, even has a little more weight on her (surprise surprise) and her little mohawk is so soft and adorable on her. Her fresh look shocked my farrier almost as much as the fact that I was the stylist. 

Hope and I can do anything together. She's not a fan of the equine dentist or getting her feet trimmed, but who is? She did great with getting her haircut and even tolerated me with the scary sound of the scary clippers. She and I, we got a thing going on. 

Oh!!! And something I always wanted happened......I got more chickens! 

Whenever I want chickens, which I always do, I scream out to the universe SOMEONE TAKE MY MONEY - I NEED CHICKENS. And magically......

I know!!! They are silkie hens!!!

And blending in well, might I say 😎

I trimmed around their eyes, trimmed their
toes and kept them in a coop in the barn for
a day before I allowed them to roam freely.
They are doing wonderful!

Okay, so I know what question your asking......where did you find 8 adorable silkie hens?! Turns out, in Celeste, which is only 10 miles from me. There was this adorable young lady who offered them up on NextDoor and BOOM, I was there at her doorstep. You see, this was all meant to be. I've been wanting some more chickens because I always want more chickens. But this many silkies at once? Unheard of. It's a gift from me to me. Because I can have as many as I can care for - and there's always room for more in Cluckingham. That sounds a bit aggressive, but that's where I'm at in my chicken life right now. I've promised myself to keep things right-sized. 100 chickens is always reasonable, right?

Good news? These new lil girlz are blending in surprisingly well and are SO well adjusted. They are not skiddish or scared - instead they are friendly, docile, not-afraid, and seemingly therefore my big girlz have accepted them with open wings. My flock is so kind ☺ and I love that about them. 

And wait, there's more fun farm news......

My Christmas gift from Lauren:

Sunflowers, chickens, my fav saying (Be Kind Or Leave)

Thank you, Lauren! I absolutely love it!!! 

PupLand

What I'd also like to share today is the love of all my pups 💞 I have a wonderful Dog Pack and let's get into some of the intricacies of it all, shall we?

Sweet Maybe does rest alot
and that's okay, sweet girl.
Take all the time you need.
Before-shave pic.....

Maybe, 15 years old coming up in April.
After-shave pic and I somehow made her
eyebrows look like she's mad all the time.
Or she's tired of me shaving her. She'll
forgive me once I feed her dinner.

Moving on.....

The Go-With-Me-Everywhere Crew

Playtimes.....

And I can guarantee you that Maybe is the Puparee who will blow the whistle when she deems it necessary. 

These two, Penny and Mia, absolutely adore playing. Well, Mia does. 

And lastly, what Christmas looked like this year:

Dog Train, get on board, Theo

And just for the record, Crazy Char's selection of her Naughty or Nice sweater was completely appropriate. And Maybe being Santa this year? Just as appropriate. We had the most wonderful Christmas and I hope you all did as well. The weather, the love - it was all just purrfect. 

Speaking of purrfect, my sweet little Pixie will be having her other eye removed on Wednesday. It's so unfortunate, yet her blindness does not allow her to be cautious of her surroundings like normal, and she's encountered an injury to her remaining (blind) eye that has the vet recommending that it also be removed. I was beyond sad to hear this news, but if not done, this type of thing may never stop for Pixie. She has no way to protect that remaining eye, so removal is necessary. Yes, I teared up when the vet informed me, but I completely understand it's in her best interest. It was such a hard surgery for Pixie with her first eye, and now she'll have to go through it again and that breaks my heart. 

We'll see you through this, Pixie

Besides her kitty friend, Cricket, 
Pixie enjoys Theo's company the most

As I count my blessings each day, I have one more to add......

I received a shed for which to utilize my outdoor
belongings - and a proper Tesla charger

This was a double bonus for me, as I have electricity in it - and my "real" Tesla charger installed safely inside (to keep it dry). I now just open the shed door and plug my car in. And now, it no longer takes 24 hours to charge my Tesla off my RV plug. Wait, that sounded very country, I think. Yes, I was charging my Tesla via my RV plug. But turns out, people do. Who knew. I feel more regular (air quotes) now having my Tesla charger that only takes 4 hours to charge it up. That's like Christmas every day for me. I'm so spoiled. 

My next big project will be a new roof for 
the old awning. But it works just fine for now.
It matches the weird wall 😏

Sometimes it's the big moments.

Other times it's the chickens, the tractors and the shed blocking the north wind. 

Sometimes it's standing in a quiet pasture, realizing life is really, really good.

Happy New Year, Y'all  🎉

Me heading into 2026

Mucho love,

C